


How it should have gone

by racoongirl8000



Series: Dracula rewrite [1]
Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Jonathan lives!, M/M, Rewrite of episode 1, Wasnt happy with what they did to Jonathan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racoongirl8000/pseuds/racoongirl8000
Summary: Rewrite of the end of episode 1, see how things progress in the story as Jonathan is now alive.Based on a one-shot I did previously.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker, Jonathan Harker/Mina Murray
Series: Dracula rewrite [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610086
Comments: 14
Kudos: 141





	1. Where it all went wrong

Jonathan was prepared to accept death, to fall into its shuddering embrace and to move into the next life. He didn’t know if he was much inclined to believe in a God, both himself and his wife had always thought the church’s preaching of hellfire and damnation put rather a damper on conversation. Sister Agatha had proclaimed she had found God through his actions, but would this bringing of a nun closer to God allow him passage into heaven? He knew not what awaited on the other side, but he took comfort in knowing that Mina would be safe, protected from him. Jonathan felt himself fall away, piece by piece until he felt his very body grow boneless. His mind expanded and felt as if it was sinking into a tranquil ocean, the waves carrying away his earthly pains far away. Jonathan felt himself scatter, losing himself into the ocean…

“Johnny”, a coy whisper echoed through his bones. Jonathan’s eyes snapped open and the hurt came flooding back. His mouth opened in a silent scream and contorted his features. His hands spasmed around the stake in his chest, unable to do little more than lightly press against the offending object. If Jonathan had been in his right mind he would have wept, for he was not in the company of God but the Devil in a man’s guise. 

“Johnny,” the voice rang out assertedly, with a hint of annoyance. Jonathan managed to turn his head slightly, every muscle in his neck protesting the gentle movement. A snap emanated from this movement; the cause likely a broken bone from his neck. His eyes were blown wide, the only colour visible being a black similar to one seen in a shark. Jonathan’s mouth opened slightly with his eyes focusing on the man in the window.

Noticing Jonathan’s attention this window ghoul etched his face into a smile, his incisors gleaming in the candlelight. Jonathan knew this was the abomination that had held him captive and taken his life, but he felt little connection to these memories. All he could think about was the pain, both the stake in his heart and the ache in his soul for relief. The Count was speaking, his mouth opening and producing words, but Jonathan felt too preoccupied to focus on him until…

“I can kill you, Johnny,” he knew this was what he needed, and Jonathan was prepared to sacrifice anything to go back to that peaceful nothingness. “But you need to let me in,” the Count continued.

Flashes of Mina ran through Jonathan’s head, fighting with his desperate need to let the Count in and be done with this life. Her beautiful blonde hair swaying in the breeze, her tear-soaked face in a nun’s habit and he especially remembered his marriage proposal.

It had been a warm summer’s day, they had both been out picnicking in the park. She had lost her hat sometime earlier in the day and he remembered the way he’d tease her, her hair all askew but still managing to look perfect. She had looked at him and smiled, before looking at his outstretched hand and her face formed into one of shock. Mina had tackled him, shouting “Yes!” and he had only just kept the engagement ring in his hand. 

That day had been the happiest in his life, but he now realised, numbly, that his life was truly over. The happiness he had shared with her had gone, for Jonathan Harker had died long ago in Castle Dracula with a sharp twist. His lips moved, an action that required tantamount effort and the creature that had once been Jonathan croaked out a simple, “Yes.”

Count Dracula glided into the cell, his shadow covering Jonathan from the soft candlelight. His pale hands grasped the stake and Jonathan tensed, the Count smiled and met his eyes. If Jonathan could have talked, he would have, he only wanted the Count to push down and put him out of his misery. He closed his eyes, expecting his own death any second.  
A chuckle broke the solemn silence in the cell and the pressure in Jonathan’s chest was yanked out, his body spasmed due to the sudden displacement of the sharp object. His chest ached and he snarled, a low guttural sound in warning at the strange creature causing him pain. 

Jonathan’s mind went blank, reverting to the basic primal instincts long forgotten by man. He clawed at the figure above him and lunged at his legs, attempting to knock him down. The lunge only met cold air as a sharp kick to Jonathan’s side set him sprawling against the nearby wall. 

A loud clang announced the shutting of the cell door, and with a flourish, the Count locked the door. He dangled the key in front of the window of the cell, provoking Jonathan to scramble towards the door and try to snatch it out of his hands. He came within a breath of them before the Count shifted them towards himself, provoking another snarl from Jonathan. The Count smiled another one of his meaningless smiles, before pocketing the keys. He noticed the abandoned sword on the ground, picking it up he tested the weight and decided it would make a suitable weapon for what was to come. 

Jonathan slammed himself against the door again, claws scratching at the iron door. The Count’s smile fell, he raised his hand to stroke the door lightly and looked into Jonathan’s eyes with a grimace.

“I’m disappointed that you let yourself get to this point; we’ll have to work on that.” He commented softly, putting his hand back down to his side and swinging the sword onto his right shoulder. 

“I’ll bring you back some food, get you feeling better than you ever felt.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody, the stress of the virus and self-isolation has led me to reach out to you! Yes, you there hiding underneath the blanket devouring every Dracula/Jonathan Harker fic there is. I'm inspired to get more writing out there, so expect more over the coming weeks. We must rectify what that series did to both Jonathan Harker and Mina, why in God's name would Dracula travel hundreds of miles just to kill him? It goes against his entire nature to snuff out opportunities for other's suffering. Also, please someone tell me I'm not going mental, there was a large amount of queerbaiting in this show weren't there. Rant over, leave us feedback and kudos if you fancy me carrying on with this.

The room echoed with the sounds of bones cracking, the squelching of flesh and a perpetual scream of desperation. The beast repetitively pummelled its arm through the gap in the door, scraping its forearms on the iron bars, feet scrabbling against the robust door. Its arms were stripped of flesh, covered in a viscous oil of which the scent of only heightened its speed and agitation and its feet seemed to be devoid of anything resembling human skin. The torchlight outside flickered in time with its charges against the door, the orange flame refusing to surrender to this monster’s attempts to escape. There were deep gouges in the stone walls, some even contained remnants of flesh, nails and the odd substance. The creature had been at this for hours, although it was the screams of the nuns that made it lose even a semblance of its previous sanity. They had echoed in the convent for hours on end, driving it to excitement and its attempts to break down the doors. Its face was no longer Jonathan Harker’s; its eyes were wide with no sclera visible; the teeth were jagged and pointed like shards of glass and the face was that of a corpse long past death. Its head was covered in various scrapes and bruises, with white patches of skull gleaming through in places where its thin skin had rubbed off. As the screams died away, its movements’ oomph withered away until it was just its head lightly banging against the door.   
The unearthly stillness in the cell’s corridor affected the creature, its eyes began to clear and its fangs to recede. It stood frozen in its prison, head raised above as if to beseech God for the reason behind its misery, and slowly sank to the ground into a submissive pose as if to pray. It’s eyes emanated water and whimpers broke the silence of the empty convent.  
And it… became a he.

Jonathan Harker started to sob; his whimpers now sounded like the cries of one who has lost a beloved to the grave. They were both for Mina and himself, as he was no longer the English gentleman that had left his homeland so very long ago. His fingers, teeth, toes, appearance and soul were no longer his, they belonged to the man that had so cruelly ripped his humanity from him. Jonathan’s body began to ache and pulse all over, the damage he’d inflicted upon it in his stupor no longer willing to be unacknowledged. The tatty nightgown he wore smelled of rot and decay, with blood leaking out as he squeezed it in his palms. 

“Mina…Mina…Mina” Jonathan echoed the words over and over like a mantra, clinging to anything that would keep him together and not a mess on the floor. He knew she was dead, God evidently did not will him to keep anything or anyone from his life before and had forsaken him. 

Steady footsteps interrupted Jonathan’s internal pity party, the creak of leather following the shoes' owners down the corridor. The footsteps halted every six paces, of which thereafter was the sound of a heavy object being dragged accompanied by a constant drip, drip, drip. 

Jonathan knew there was no escape, Dracula would have ensured it. There was only a single way out of this, he was certain of it and so he turned his head towards the broken stake torn from his own chest a few hours earlier. His hand flashed out and hid it in the scraps of clothing still on his body, and he let himself smile and eyes flash in anticipation of his coming redemption. The footsteps came to a stop by his door, a shadow obscured the flickering light from outside and fell across Jonathan’s trembling body. The sigh was felt rather than heard, and Jonathan finally felt his body still at the arrival of this other presence. He began counting to steady his nerves, starting from one Jonathan knew he would stop only when this ghoul was banished from this life. 

The key clicked in the lock, and with a groan, the abused door swung open. 

Jonathan’s senses went wild, his eyes felt as though they would pop out of his skull and his teeth seemed to be aiming to cut through his gums. He clutched his arms underneath him, rising into a seated position and hoping that his stake was hidden. Waves of pain passed through his skull, sentencing him to an inky prison from which he had little escape. A warm chuckle emanated from the figure in front of him, and a rough hand took his jaw, moving it to the left and then the right in order to see Jonathan’s eyes more clearly. 

“Clearly the eyes have gone,” the fingers released him, leaving little imprints in their wake. 

“You really need to take care of yourself Johnny boy, you look like a walking corpse at the moment.” Jonathan held his breath, nothing of concern now that he was a vampire, trying to keep from smelling the wondrous blood. 

“Oh Johnny, there’s no need to act like a child.” There was a swip sound before a gurgle ran out. “You need to eat, really.” Liquid was spilling over the floor. 

“Anyone would think I’m depriving you of food.” Fingers gripped and forced open his jaw, he shuddered in fear due to the deprivation of his sight. 

“Now you’re a growing boy.” The smell was coming closer. 

“Eat your food.” Two fingers covered in blood were placed in his mouth, and Jonathan went blank. He felt himself taking a back seat in his own head, comfortably curling up in a corner at the back, unable to deal with what felt like a story worthy of being in a penny dreadful. Jonathan felt his eyes gently close…

And its eyes opened, moving past Dracula’s grinning face and spying the corpse over Dracula’s shoulder. It looked at its master for confirmation and Dracula leaned in.

“Good boy.”


	3. Chapter 3

Golden hair sodden with blood obscured the defiled nun’s face, her habit having been torn off and left in the far corner. Her clothes were rags, bite and claw marks littered her body of which only scraps of unsullied skin and fabric remained. Blood pooled around her bod, from which it trickled across the cell’s stone floor and floundered against the room’s only two undead inhabitants, the ones that still walked anyway. 

Dracula gazed downwards at the touch of the blood against his black dress shoes, bending down to dip a clawed finger into the offering. His eyes lightened into a vicious red, sucking his finger clean before withdrawing it with a pop. His canines glinted in the torchlight before lowering to lap at the blood trails as a dog would at a water bowl. In the corner, an apparent ghoul shifted at Dracula’s wet slurps. 

It lifted its bloodstained arm in wonder, the torchlight shone upon it and it became apparent that the limb’s flesh was regenerating and growing pinker by the minute. This effect was occurring all over this creature’s body, open wounds closed themselves, flesh filled out and facial injuries vanished. With this miraculous healing came clarity of mind, Jonathan Harker came to the fore. 

Jonathan came to in a haze, the room surrounding him was a confusing blur. His eyes glanced down and focused on his hands, looking as healthy as they did before he… Breaths quickened with this observation, Jonathan kept flipping his hands over and looking over for any evidence of his previous time in captivity. He tentatively wiggled one of his nails, looking for any weakness between the nail and the flesh of the finger. Jonathan could not notice any, instead, he took his hands and began mapping his face. It didn’t necessarily feel chubby, but it did feel much smoother than normal and free of the minimalistic acne scars that had plagued him since teenage years. His hair was short, nowhere near the length it had been before the Count…

The Count!

He tore his fingers away from his face and jumped backwards…

Causing a jarring sensation as his back hit the stone wall and emitting a thwump loud enough to attract attention.

Count Dracula snapped his head up, his face still etched in the terrifying visage Jonathan had witnessed that night with the boxes. He grinned, blood escaping from his jaws before swiftly shutting them. He rose from his crouched position and approached Jonathan with a slow pace, the blood seemingly parting before his impeccably shined shoes. 

The body was in his way, but instead of going around it, he went through it, literally. The crack of bone and squish of flesh made Jonathan curl into himself, forcing himself against the wall. He shivered, trembling in the fear of being stalked. His focus shifted to a single stone in the wall, on its chips and its scars from how it had been cut in the quarry, tracing them lightly with his fingers.

“Johnny” Dracula sighed, crouching next to Jonathan’s shaking form. He raised his hand to calm Jonathan and stalled, predicting Jonathan’s likely violent reaction to his touch. In his peripheral vision, he spotted the visceral remains of the nun and the ever-growing pool lake of blood on the stone flags. It didn’t matter what he did, Jonathan would not calm down in this cell.

Jonathan held his breath; it really wasn’t that hard anymore. His chest didn’t protest, and his lungs did not contract in warning, only another reminder that he was no longer human. That he was no longer a man who could feel, love or marry Mina. Mina with her sky-blue eyes, kind heart and golden locks… His head snapped up, eyes homing in on the crushed pulp of a body in the corner with its bloodstained blonde hair, letting out a strangled cry. 

Dracula followed his bride’s line of sight to the nun on the floor and started to chuckle.

“Oh, you thought?” Of all the possible responses he thought Jonathan was capable of, Dracula certainly didn’t expect Jonathan to lunge at him with fangs and claws on display. In any other situation, he would have found it cute, the new-born vampire thought he could injure him! 

Dracula swung his cloak into Jonathan’s way, disorientating the foolish boy and allowing Dracula to appear behind him. Jonathan fought his way out of the cloak to be put into a chokehold and slammed face-first into the stone, splitting the stone slabs with an almighty crack. Jonathan let out a scream of rage, frustration and loss; scrabbling at the iron bar on his throat to dislodge it. Dracula forced his knee into Jonathan’s back, pinning him to the floor and leant forward to place his fangs over the back of Jonathan’s neck. At this new pressure, Jonathan froze, his instincts screaming at him that submission was the only way out of this situation. Dracula’s fangs lightly pricked his flesh, making Dracula’s unspoken warning pretty clear as to what happens when brides disobey. Jonathan curled his hands into fists, desperately wishing for the emptiness of the beyond in which he could find Mina.  
“Are we quite finished with this behaviour?” Dracula hissed at Jonathan, inconspicuously trying to identify the new scents his bride emanated. He detected hints of lilacs, blood and desperation; he’d ensure that was changed by the time they got to England. 

Jonathan felt himself begin to sob in frustration, but his tear ducts were filled with dust. He was miserable; pinned down by a monster, having drunk from his beloved and now he couldn’t even cry properly! A sudden poke in his back ceased his sobbing, he didn’t even want to know what that was!

Dracula tutted as his bride lay still in exhaustion, they now only had a few hours to get on the next stage of their journey. He had felt Johnny’s body tense when the knife on his belt had sagged down, touching his back. He smirked, at least he was complaint now. With a quick twist of his arms he snapped Jonathan’s neck, he would be out for at least a few days as he healed himself. 

Dracula hoisted Jonathan into his arms and strode out of the cell, the site of Jonathan’s rebirth. As he travelled down the Convent’s corridor, he mused over telling Jonathan that his first meal hadn’t been Mina, just a random nun he’d found with the same colour hair. He decided against it for the time being, it would make is so much easier for him to adjust thinking his lady love had died by his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the product of ultimate boredom and motivation from people on the internet. Hope everyone's keeping safe at home.


	4. Chapter 4 (Where's Mina gone?)

(Technically this takes place before previous chapter, thought it would provide a plausible explanation as to where Mina and Sister Agatha buggered off to.)

The only sounds that permeated the fog of despair in Sister Agatha’s cell was that of the aforementioned nun’s mutterings, and Mina’s heartbroken whimpers. She had sunk to her knees and placed her head in her hands, she was frozen in her lamentations for over two hours. Sister Agatha had ignored Mina’s grief in lieu of intensely studying her gathered texts, her tongue flicking out every so often to wet her thumb and turn the page. She kept a constant focus on the wafer bread barrier from her peripheral vision, every few minutes turning around to ensure the barrier was unbroken.

Mina knew she could cry no more, her tear ducts had no more water from her constant weeping of, what felt like an eternity, the past two hours. The stone had surely imprinted on her flesh, it certainly felt like it, and she hoped to God that it had drawn blood. That she would suffer as Jonathan, her blue-eyed Johnny, her love had who had sacrificed himself to save her. Mina thought she could never love another as she had loved Johnny, the way they had felt about each other was a once in a lifetime love. The great love spoken of in song and poems had previewed her and Jonathan’s end, that of death and heartache.

Sister Agatha sighed, observing Mina’s frozen form and her clear moping. It was still a few hours until sunup, an event she was certain would banish Dracula from the convent’s walls. Until this sunrise, she knew she had to be on her guard, both to prevent the mourning girl in front of her from performing a useless act of heroism and to stop Dracula from disrupting the circle.

“You never know,” Agatha mused softly to herself, “she may come out of this stronger for it.” The sight of Mina drew up a memory of Sister Ana, a nun whose fragility had made living difficult for both herself and the people surrounding her. Agatha had been the only one able to calm her down and pull her out of her delusions, influencing the Mother Superior’s decision to make the two share a cell. At night, she used to curl up in Agatha’s bed, spooning herself under Agatha. Even now, she still remembered the scent of Ana’s hair and the touch of her body…

Agatha gave her head a little shake; it would do no good to think of past intimacy whilst she was trapped with a predator on the prowl. She gently bent her knees and placed a hand on Mina’s shoulder, hoping that a physical touch would bring her out of despair. Mina slowly turned her head to face Agatha, blotchy eyes met Agatha’s own and gave her an involuntary shudder, stemming from her own past nostalgia. The look in Mina’s eyes reminded her intensely of Ana, a look of loss and total absence of life that was constant as she had neared the end. There was an absence of spirit; a loss of will to live. Only the strongest could pull themselves back from this precipice, all others would soon wither away into the great beyond. Only time would determine which path Mina would choose…

A scrape broke the room’s illusion of security. Agatha snapped her head up, lunging over her books to hold up her cross to the door. Adrenaline was surging through her veins, causing a thin sheen of sweat over her face and left her feeling wired. She strode over her discarded books and stood in front of Mina, feebly trying to shield this innocent from the blood-soaked monster creeping into her cell. It had, once again, divested itself of all its clothing and presented himself unabashed under Agatha’s fearful gaze. A snigger got caught in her throat, of course, an aristocrat would staunchly avoid dirtying his clothes. Was it to maintain his illusion of civility and propriety? As if sensing her internal mocking, Dracula opened his mouth in a mockery of a smile with his incisors on full display. His posturing failed to inspire fear in her though, the blood dripping from his mouth gave Agatha the impression he was dribbling. He was deadly, that she decided, but deep down he was just a _drama koningin_.

“So, this is your plan,” Dracula skulked around the wafer barrier, pacing back and forward in a hurry to find an opening. His fury grew along with his impatience, she had no practical knowledge on how to combat him and yet luck kept her alive. Dracula internally snarled, he should already be on his way to the docks with his rejuvenated bride. A stray thought appeared, for all Jonathan’s posturing and English manners he was unable to stick to a regular schedule. He would certainly train that particular habit out of his bride before they stepped one foot on English soil. But first, to deal with this trembling nun and the blonde statue.

“It certainly seems to be an effective plan,” Agatha shot back, eyes warily observing Dracula’s test of the barrier. “It’s keeping you out so far,” By her own calculations, they had only to wait for one and a half hours before the cell would be flooded with the light of a new day. Burning away the demons of the night.

Dracula dropped to his knees just over the edge of the barrier and beckoned her closer with a talon tipped finger. Agatha, always the daredevil, approached him but remained aware of the edges of the barrier and imitated his crouch. He held two of his fingers up and jammed them down his throat, his black pools capturing Agatha and denying her the privilege of looking away from the detestable act. She thought he would stop at the wrist and was sorely mistaken, she watched in hidden fear as first his wrist and then his forearm disappeared into his gullet. A cracking sound popped out of Dracula’s chest, stilling his arm and widening his grin substantially. He began to withdraw his limb, the sound of flesh rubbing against flesh apparent.

Agatha thought she would be sick, previous attendance in dissections and autopsies had always placed her in the category of those with a strong stomach, but this visceral act was on another level entirely. Dracula’s involuntary gagging ended with the announcement of a wet squelch, as he pulled his arm free. Something was clutched in his hand; it was pearly white and gleamed amongst the flesh chunks covering his right arm.

“Watch this, Sister.” He spat out the final word, blood spraying out on Agatha’s face. Dracula tossed the object towards one of her towering stacks of books. in a moment the books had fallen across the barrier and scattered the wafers. Agatha was already moving though, grabbing a flask and throwing its contents upon Dracula. She had plan B’s for her backup plans, refusing to ever be caught out for lack of preparation. Grabbing Mina off the floor, she legged it past Dracula and for the door.

He screamed, raising his arms to his peeling face. Blood splattered over the floor, interlocked with thimble-sized pieces of skin, at least half of his nose was in the mess. Dracula lowered his arms from his ruined face, parts of bone visible to the naked eye, and growled. His eyes darted to the open door and began snarling, he had underestimated the woman and in return paid the price for his hubris.

Dracula stroked what little remained of his visage, lip curling when his finger tugged on a particularly loose patch of skin and pondered on his next move. There was no rush, at least an hour until daylight and they were only human after all. He could run after them, drain Van Helsing and tear open his bride’s beloved for him to snack on. Johnny would have little attachments to his old life, and it could make him more compliant in the long run. They had eternity after all! But this was the most fun he’d had in eons; none had been able to both infuriate and frustrate him and live as long as Van Helsing was doing. Maybe, she’d provide further entertainment through her continued existence, and his bride’s tears at finding Mina alive would be delicious.

He rose to his feet, mind made upon his next move. Dracula felt his face healing from the holy water, the pain from the burn made him hiss. He sniffed through the remains of his nose, searching for any nuns still alive in the Convent. He needed to fetch a blonde-haired nun and quench his own thirst, couldn’t have Johnny getting ideas from his disfigurement. Once he’s quenched his thirst, he’ll make himself presentable for the journey to the port. This deviation was putting far too many delays into his schedule, if they didn’t leave in the next hour it was likely they’d miss the journey!

Latching on to the sudden appearance of a sharp scent, Dracula grinned maniacally. Dracula rolled his neck and arms, cracks and pops accompanying his stretches, and exited the cell. Outside, he tensed his muscles and started to stalk his prey…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dutch is Drama Queen, google translate so if there are issues with the translation, don't blame me. Hope everyone's surviving quarantine. Also to repeat, this chapter is set before Chapter 3!


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